anianurst

and you were tired of cecil’s no-nonsense, find-a-way-to-beat-these-fuckers stare. tired of playing hero for a bunch of ungrateful scumbags, of ceaselessly bloodying your hands. crime is the many-headed hydra. it will never die. you will. 

you took mark’s hand and buried yourself in his arms. earth burned. 

the flames have settled, the only remaining source of heat being mark’s body, slotted against yours. markus sebastian grayson, clad in the cold colours of viltrum, white and gray molding him into a perfect picture of stoicism. you think of marble. glacial. haughty. 

he’s been… hovering, lately. lingering just out of the corner of your eyes, when the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the lithe silhouette of him, all sharp angles and cold, eyes colder than the winter soil when frost bites and crops wither. you wonder if he trusts you. if he’s watching you, waiting for the inevitable slip up. 

(you hear the viltrumite talk among themselves. they are not kind - their kin never is. general kregg’s words are cutting. you were once earth’s best defender, with the weight of the sun bearing on your shoulders, liquid fire coursing through your veins. supernova, he mocks. do you really think of yourself as one of us?)

so here you are, on a viltrumite ship, arms crossed as you face the vastness of space. it’s cold, the void of it nipping at your skin despite your powers. you let out a heavy sigh. 

earth orbits before you. you hope it’s worth it, its desolation. the slaughter of the weak. you remember cecil’s gaze as you towered over the pentagon, clad in viltrumite colours. the fear. the betrayal. the knowledge that whatever failsafe he planned against you, to keep you contained, was not enough. the smell of his burnt flesh didn’t make your stomach churn.

a noise. a door sliding open, then shut. viltrumites abhor walking. there are no footsteps to recognise people by here. but there is only one person who comes and goes by the stark room they call your quarters. 

he comes to you with bloodied hands and heavy silence, the weight of it blanketing your shoulders. you do not know if you hate him for what he’s made you do. 

(you remember the regent emperor thragg standing before you and asking to prove yourself to the empire. you remember mark suggesting you lay waste on the pentagon, voice detached. you remember burning the GDA to the ground. self immolation at its peak.)

you see him, his reflection next to you, blood splattering his uniform, his cheeks, his hair. he does not speak. stands a mere few inches away from you. he’s warm, you think, you know, you feel. warm enough that you wonder why he burns, what is burning him. 

hesitantly, you brush your fingers against his. he stiffens, shoulders tensing in the prelude to viltrumite ultraviolence. you freeze, make a move to pull away. his fingers curl around yours, wrap tight and pull. 

your breath hitches, head resting on the angel wing of his collarbone, one you’ve traced the contours of one desperate, desperate night three months ago. you, mark, and so much grief you wanted to drown in it. you had never felt that cold in your life. mark had pulled you close, mouth feverish on yours, thumb smearing blood away from the corner of your lip. you’d melted. 

you’ve learned, then, panting and breathless in the wreckage left of the pentagon, hellfire burning, that viltrumites fuck like they fight. it wasn’t soft, the way mark took you and made you his own, it never was. you don’t think you’d want it any other way. you remember the way he looked at you when you cupped his cheek, the way he flinched when your skin touched his own, impossibly soft. he’s never known anything but his father’s fist.

three months later, and you’re a betrayer to your kin, lone human in a viltrumite ship. and one of their strongest warriors has his hands resting on your hips, thumbs brushing hesitantly over the thick material over your uniform, seeking, seeking. you do not understand why he’s drinking you in like he’s been starving for it, like he can only breathe when you’re around. why now? something like a low, broken little noise echoes in your ear. your eyes widen.

“mark? what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. his breath hitches. you watch as he leans into your touch, the sharp angle of his cheek pressing against your palm. it feels like something is clicking. you meet his gaze. gone is the glacier edge to his eyes. they’re soft. infinitely soft, gazing at you as though you’re holding the universe in the palm of your hand. your heart skips a beat. then another.

something like a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, and you watch, bewildered, as he nuzzles your hand, a stray lock of hair brushing your knuckles. 

“mark?” you breathe. 

he glances away, fingers curling around your wrist. a shuddering breath escapes him, warm on your pulse. he feels it, the way your blood jumps under your skin, fluttering softly under his fingertips. you push away his hair from his face, comb the thick dark locks behind his ear. it’s gotten bloody again.

another soft noise.

“keep- keep doing that.”

“what?”

he nuzzles your hand, grip on your hip growing impossibly tighter.

“touching my hair,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck, blood and gore and viscera now clinging to you both.

you tut a little and gently push him away, eyeing the mess he’s made. blood drips down from his trembling fists to the floor, drip drip dripping red. your fingers lace with his.

“let’s get us cleaned up, yeah?”

blood drips down the shower. lately, it feels as though the only colours you’ve known are white, grey and red. so much red. too much red- 

mark’s hand cups your cheek. trembling. hesitant. like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t, you realise. not with the way viltrumites are, war-bent, destruction-borne. he’s trying. for you. your heart swells in your chest and you smile at him.

“hey.”

his lips curl in a rare smile, chasing the touch of your hands as they busy themselves in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. he’s practically purring under your touch, leaning down to give you better access.

“hey.”

you brush his split knuckles, the bruises blooming over his ribs, the deep gash above his adonis belt, already healing, reduced to a faint, pink line. he doesn’t flinch. only pulls you closer, chin on top of your head. you have to push him away to avoid getting soapy water in your eyes.

“who was the unlucky guy?”

“spawn.”

one of earth’s strongest. one of your colleagues. one of your frien- 

you sigh. inhale, exhale, until the only things that exist are you, mark, and the scalding stream of water trickling down on your skin. until mark pulls you out of the shower and lays you down in bed, barely dry, his head resting on your chest.

you’ve betrayed everything and everyone the moment your heart started beating for him. but here, with the way his lips curl into a half-smile, with the way he trails soft patterns over the small scar on your hip bone, your guilt eases.

“can you… can you play with my hair?” he whispers, burrowing himself in your chest.

you think he wants to crawl in it. make himself at home between your ribs, nestle against your heart and rest his weary head on it.

“yeah.”

in another universe, mark grayson is born soft and cradled by his mother’s warmth. in this universe, debbie grayson is dead, and all the love he ever knew was violence. he’s all sharp edges and cold gazes and bloodied fists, more weapon than human. 

yet, in the quiet of your room, he softens against you, guard lowered enough to let you press your lips to the crown of his hair. 

“let me love you,” you murmur.

he looks up at you, chin on your chest, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“rotten, useless work.”

you press your lips to his.

“not to me.”

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: best friends to enemies to ???, cursing, alcohol, drinking, sexual jokes, kissing, making out, sakusa's lowkey an asshole at first, yn is too tbh, probably spelling/grammar mistakes, probably out of character :[[, i might've forgotten a few warnings so make sure to check the individual warnings per chapter!

yn's playlist -- sakusa's playlist

chapters are named after songs that remind me of the series!

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: yn and the virgins + ball fondlers

1: orange julius (coming soon!)

2: coming soon..

one -> coffee deliverer

two -> nepo baby

three -> smart cookie

four -> scenic 𖤓

five -> performance

six -> dream

seven -> vintage vessel 𖤓

eight -> no contact

nine -> casual friends

ten -> hold on

eleven -> free me

twelve -> soon

CHAINSAW MAN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR (TBP)

This is PART ONE of my mini series, Mermaid Devil. Weird that I posted them out of order but life is disorderly anyway. I will post the fourth and last part whenever the chance comes. Anyway, please enjoy Samsonite.

WORD COUNT // 7,091 words

WARNINGS: Suggestive Language - Explicit Language

CSM TAGLIST: N/A

Stirred, misty heavens above opened its wide gates, spreading grayish, decaying clouds throughout the sky like a wicked plague. A dreadful sensation crawled up your spine then somnolently down the entirety of your body; paralyzing your legs in stiff concrete. 

The sun hardly beamed at this time—this early in the morning. It wasn't dark enough to still consider it night, however, it also wasn't bright enough to consider it dawn. It was in between those periods—a perfect twilight, it was. Likewise, it matched your present feelings and mood at that moment in time. 

The horrendous smell of Tokyo diverted your senses. Sounds of early trains flying hastily above you, and the trivial fear of the clouds sobbing on you today—shivering you. Why exactly did _he_ want you to wake up and arrive here so damn early? So early that you couldn’t tell if it was still night or morning. You’ll settle for the morning. 

Today was the start of your career as a zippy devil-hunter, well, your training as one. What you found irritating was that the senior devil hunter who was assigned to train you had full control over this instruction. This is why he’s able to call you up so early, on this day, specifically at this scruffy location, and stand you up all on top of that.

The audacity of men. You haven't personally met this devil-hunter yet, but you could already tell he was an asshole and a rugged dog just by his behavior ‘tis far. Additionally, the location he told you to arrive at this day descriptively showed his not giving a fuck demeanor. Kishibe, which is his name, told you to arrive at this hotel that resided in the middle of the rough parts of Tokyo via a late email. 

You weren't scared of creeping around in these parts at this time or anything; growing up in similar parts dissolved any fear that may have manifested itself. You were young, but you were not naïve in the slightest. The hotel doors you stood in front of rather suspiciously weren't any roundabout hotel and you could sense that much.

Each man that passed through the hotel's doors flirted with you like panting dogs in the summer's heat. You periodically dismissed every one of them swiftly. At this point, you’re not even bothering to spare a glance at them. What made it quite difficult was each man who left the building looked like the description you were looking for. You were looking out for an older man, in his forties or so: dark hair, inflicted grays, and facial hair. That was it. 

You sighed, dancing your eyes around your surroundings for the hundredth time that hour, suspicious characters all around. Hell, they probably consider you a suspicious character too.

You pull at your loose tie, the fabric rubbing against the back of your neck with each mild tug. The area was shadow-bombed, milky darkness seeped into the cracked streets like rain puddles. The wall you leaned on roughly rubbed against your blazer. 

You chuckled to yourself, breaking the silence that fractured the neighborhood. You tried finding humor in this situation. A lazy, tired smile drooped from your face, eyes tingly drained.

The damn hotel he told you to meet him at was a bloody love hotel. A lousy cheap one too.

Kishibe hadn’t mentioned anything about the location being a love hotel in his email. No wonder every person who passed in and out of those doors assumed you were up for grabs. Comedic shit. 

You lean back further, staring up at the sky, in turn bumping your head against the concrete wall. No pain was emitted, though. The sky was starless as expected, but a mystique fog swirled in every direction, telling you an ancient ole tale.

The glass door of the hotel beside you slid open, ruining your sense of peace. This time around, you didn’t even bother removing your gaze from the early sky to glance at him. Who arrived was another middle-aged man with dark hair inflicted with grays. 

He turned in your direction upon exiting and his mouth curled into a crooked smile. “Hey, sweet thing. How much is a night with you?” A confirmation. At least the other men were vague in their request for paid sex.

You stared the man in the eye, eyes seemingly lifeless like a silent animal. “Back it off,” you sighed. You squint your eyes, the bright pink light from inside the love hotel blinding them. “I’m already in a bad mood, prick. Don’t ya make me repeat myself, eh?” 

The man, surprisingly, shrugged his shoulders and walked off to the parking lot, calling you a ‘nagging bitch that sounded like his wife’ on his way out. 

You rubbed your temples. The audacity of men, the audacity of men, the fucking audacity of men.

You bunched your eyes closed in frustration, a train filled with hatred thought consumed you vehemently, until a masculine, raspy voice spoke.

“So you’re not a worker, eh?” 

You flinched, and your eyes burst open from their containment. “Eh? Where the hell did you come from?” The words left your mouth like a slippery slope. Your eyes, fully alert and destined on his dull figure. His shadow overlapped with yours, trapping yours against the wall, similar to him standing in front of you, your back against the wall. A rugged man, with rather gray hair, a stoic expression, and a monotone tone, stood upon you.

A sporadic stubble and unreadable scowl were stapled on his aged face. “Been watching you from inside for a while,” he stated. “Are you the chump they wanted me to train?” 

The bloody audacity. He was inside there the entire time watching you while you waited for his old ass out here. You bunched your fist in a way to bite your tongue. “Yea, I would say so. I can assume you’re Kishibe,” you uttered roughly, a glare, that he’d noticed, in the back of your eye. 

He shrugged his oversized coat onto his shoulders, a loose tie hanging down between his chest. He responds. “You can assume all you want,” he said, then turned his back to you and walked off, silently urging you to follow him into the ongoing mist. In which you do.

As you follow Kishibe’s meticulous trail, a tense, fleshy silence embodies the smoke-spilled roads. Chilly streets rid of people or dog crap. The devilish smoke followed behind you and Kishibe’s ill-defined silhouettes that caressed the other. The buildings were as quiet as bats, and the painted sky was having trouble shifting from twilight to _morning_ or _night_. It still appeared like a grayish-black paint forcefully mixed with water. 

The metallic colors and sandy clouds swirl north, south, and west. You tugged your trench coat tighter, a shiver running down your body intimately. The mysterious time of day was cold, not arctic-cold, but rather, hauntingly cold. Like if a ghost was following you, and you knew it, but couldn't see it. This must be what people who’re haunted felt endlessly cold. Kishibe however was unaffected by mother nature like deep space, walking coolly with the fire he bestowed.

You observed his face from behind, desperately, tirelessly following behind his shadow's steps. His slanted eyes were a dreading black paint and showed no movement nor care. His irises didn't shift or expand, they were bleak. His stubble was rurly, unlike his fixed, gray hair.

The side of his face showcased his ear piercing on both sides of his face, something you wouldn't expect from a man of his age. The women in you unwillingly gauged his build. He had a nice, strong build for his age. You could tell he worked out, though devil hunter work might have just kept him in shape. 

You faintly scoffed at your observation. 

Too bad he was a dick and the age of your father.

A breeze passed, clearing the fog in your path. It had been almost half an hour of silent walking. Your legs were starting to strangle you. Where in the world was this man taking you? He hadn’t said a word since the Love Hotel, and your throat was becoming dry from the lack of action. 

You pick up your steps, gaining a distance. Now walking next to the silent man, shoulder to shoulder. He turned the corner, and again you followed. Expectantly at this point, no person was in sight besides a stray cat in the junk-filled alleyway you passed. 

You groaned. You wanted to know if you were close to wherever in the hell he was taking you both, and why exactly was it relevant. The further you walked away from your first location, the longer it would take for your father to pick you up after the ordeal.

You begin scolding the man, legs slowly losing their pace. “Did you fucking walk here?” 

He shifted his eyes to you, barely a lick of interest or care in them. Kishibe honestly hated the sound of people whining in general. He stopped in his tracks before responding, you stop also, just happy to give your legs a chance to bloody calm themselves. You pant, leaning against the wall as he takes a swig of his flask, watching your exhausted figure. 

“Your legs’ too good to walk? Ya gonna be in a lot of pain then if that's so. Walking everywhere is a damn necessary as a devil hunter,” he lectured, tone relaxed, but still holding authority in the back of it. He placed his flask back at its home in his pocket. “Cars are expensive anyway. Why buy one you’ll rarely use?” he shrugged.

You frowned, annoyed. “You lecturing me or what?”

“No. I’m taming ya. We're here anyway," he said.

Your gaze goes forward and you realize that there was a bar within this alleyway. You look back to Kishibe who stared ahead. He reaches to open the foggy glass door. “Follow,” he muttered as he entered, and in the end, you followed behind him into the unknown.

Kishibe sighed an exposed yawn in the back of it.

“Let’s get started,” he muttered.

You and Kishibe were seated, face to face, in a desolate bar. Said bar presented a snazzy disposition: warm, orange lighting and the stringing smell of alcohol mixing with Kishibe’s mature cologne left your nose hypnotized. 

You leaned your face further into your cheek, elbow resting upon the dark wooden table. You watched silently as Kishibe shuffled through an assortment of papers, presumingly your file. 

The file stated the following about you, the very basics of your life. Your age, birthday, and where you originated from. It also mentioned somewhat hastily how you had dropped out of high school your last year, however, Kishibe saw it as unassuming and unneeded information.

Kishibe’s eyebrow elated once catching the eye of your day of birth. His eyes lingered on your date of birth for a split second, and the date erupts a comedically motility in his mind. 

He chuckles, huskily, to your silent confusion. He places the file on the absent table, making eye contact with you, “It’s your birthday today, eh? Tis' gonna be the worst day of ya life from now on, chump,” he stated, a lazy grin on his face, and merriment stranded in his voice. His levity erupts an angry volcano within ya.

However, before you could retort, a man older than you, and perhaps older than the Kishibe as well, walks over from behind the bar and towards the lone table you both accompanied. He had long gray hair, almost pure white that was as silky as a satin pillow, and you could tell that just from sight. The bartender wore a simple suit that wasn't fancy but rather comfortable. Shamefully, it was more of a suit than the loose tie that you and Kishibe wore without care.

“Ah, Kishibe. It's been a while,” the bartender said before resting his attention on you; a new face. “Tis’ your mistress on the side?” 

You scoff, turning to stare at the rustic brick wall. “Only important men have mistresses,” you retorted. The older man arched a brow, a smile threatening his tranquil expression. 

“Spicy, eh?” 

Kishibe ignored your cold shade and did not bother to acknowledge your ‘moodiness.’ He scratched his stubble.

“She’s my trainee.”

He nodded. “Ah, I see. A pleasure to meet you miss,” he bowed, yet you continued staring at the wall, allowing him to bow to your stoic side profile.

“Apologies. It was impertinent to assume. Just Kishibe rarely brings anyone here anyway,” he added. 

You shrugged, disinterested. You were being cold for no reason in particular, you dismissed it as boredom and exhaustion as always. Doesn’t matter to you if you push people away by acting like that. No one puts in the effort anyway, not your parents or even yourself, they’re all assholes; including yourself.

Finally, he begins taking your orders, disregarding your arctic demeanor. “What can I get you both then?” 

Kishibe pointed his thumb at you. “Get my friend here a whiskey on the rocks and my usual. On her.” 

Your eyes squint. On you? You don’t recall offering to pay, nor did you even suggest or know you were going to a bar in the first place. You grit your teeth.

The bartender nodded, cupping his chin. “Here to celebrate?”

Kishibe nodded, nudging in your direction. “Her birthday.”

“Oh. Consider it on the house then,” he smiled. 

You glared the brightness of forest fires at Kishibe while the bartender smiled at you, not noticing or bothering to mention your angered demeanor. 

“Happy birthday, miss,” the man said, before exiting the table to fix up your drinks, leaving you and the devil-hunter alone in the thick fog between yourselves. Yet again a silence ensued.

You bit your tongue, not breaking eye contact with Kishibe. “Did you just use my birthday to get free liquor?” 

He looked away from your gaze as he searched through his blazer's inner pockets. “I’m an opportunist man,” he brushed off. 

The audacity of men. 

You crossed your arms. “How long will I have to bear being with you? If you haven't gauged, I don't like you very much,” you boldly stated. It’s been more than two hours and the sky hasn't given you a glance of blue yet. You were still very exhausted, and honestly, could use a glass or two of a glass of whiskey right about now, ignoring how early or late it currently was for alcohol.

Kishibe removed a flask from his pocket before answering your question. “‘Till I think you’re competent enough to handle a contract,” he answered. He took a swig of God knows what from his flask before adding with a bored sigh: “So whenever I want.” 

You make the mature decision to not respond, and another silence ensues. You lean into the leather-like cushions, unbuttoning your blazer for comfort. In this silence you get lost in your thoughts; rethinking life choices.

Why become a devil hunter? Hell, to be honest, nothing else seemed to matter. Everyone lives through different experiences that gauge their job choice in a way, you guess. You helped your mom bake as a child? Then you likely wouldn't mind owning a bakery. 

For you, it wasn't wholesome. You are one of many victims of the Gun Devil manifestation. Both your brother and sister were killed, and in the end, leaving you and your parents never the same. Your parents never got over the death of your siblings. You couldn't blame them. Although, you still wished they were there for you, to help you whereas they didn't. They only pained you more. Making your childhood difficult.

Your school years weren't particularly eventful, school wasn't anything you were particularly bad or good at. You mostly lacked effort or care toward your studies which ended up causing you to drop out of your last year of high school. Throughout the recent years after dropping out, you worked common jobs for cash, yet nothing permanent.

Though, one day on your way to one of your old jobs you happened to witness certified devil hunters take down a devil of some kind. You stood in the crowd among many who watched the fight, and seeing that devil brought a garden of emotions you thought went away, that you hid away the entirety of your life. A colorful assortment of anger and great, great anguish.

You ended up being late to work that day, you remember.

“Didja’ walk?”

You were broken from the past at the extant buzzing of Kishibe’s voice. You idly blinked as his dark stare gradually came into sight and mind. The longer you wordlessly stared, the firmer his stare got, the more annoyed he got, and the more…tense you got.

“…W-What?” you uttered, just so you could respond.

The dumb expression you were giving him, irked Kishibe. And anyone with half a mind of a child could see that from the lack of amusement on his face.

Unless he always looked that grumpy. Did he always look so tired? He looked more awake when you were walking in the snowy breeze to this bar.

Kishibe didn’t answer.

He stared without a peep coming outta him. Though, the longer he stared without a word, the...shyer he noticed your demeanor became from the dead air. The tenseness of it all makes you fitfully crack and tremble. You began to fold. Nowhere near as tough as you proclaimed before with your snippy attitude and words.

Further out in the bar you could hear the sluggish jazz from the record player in the corner, otherwise, there was a silence of a desert amongst you and him. The music soothed Kishibe’s exasperation somewhat and brought him to the realization that particularly, at this point, he didn’t care about you spacing out earlier anymore.

No, it didn’t matter to him. It no longer annoyed him. However, what he was curious about was how you crumbled beneath his gaze now despite spending the last hour together where you’ve played it tough like a stray.

It was evident to Kishibe how your newfound jitteriness contrasted greatly with your prior smartass demeanor. He noticed now instead of the iceberg-like stance you held earlier, you seemed to have now melted. How your tinted red-colored lips trembled as you were in the middle of a blizzard, how your eyes shifted to avoid contact, and how they struggled to stay open and keep straight. This shift seemingly came from negative zero.

Kishibe removed his gaze from you, the white flags waving in the air. He scratched his stubble as he faintly sighed the rest of his annoyance away and made the decision to keep his eyes low and repeat himself.

“Didja walk to the hotel? It’s late after all.”

“Oh.” Right, that. You were honestly just relieved that he spoke. You slouched back into the cushions. “My father, uh, dropped me off near the distasteful location you told me to arrive at,” your tone gradually picked back up.

Kishibe chuckled, barely noticed by ya. “What? Never been to a hotel?” he jested, dryly.

You crossed your arms and leaned back as fast as a jet. “I don’t like waiting for someone to get themselves off, literally, before doing their job,” you lectured. “It’s rather disgusting.”

“Never asked to train ya. So I’m fitting you into my schedule. Not the other way around. And I wasn’t “getting myself off.” ‘Twas a meeting with an old friend," he explained. "Not that you had to know that.”

It wouldn’t be rude to say you didn’t believe him, but you found it hard to believe him. Whatever, you disregarded that thought. You didn’t care about his business on the side or his business in general. No. You wanted to know how all this aligns with you becoming a devil hunter. Hell, you almost forgot why you were here with this man you did not know.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked.

“Tsk. It’s a pub. You drink at a pub," he reasoned.

You positioned your palm on your cheek, resting your elbow on the table. “Trynna make’ conversation seems highly pointless with ya, huh?”

You were growing tired of the cat and dog play. 

Kishibe looked over your shoulder and lingered over it for a second “…Your life’s full of irony, ain’t it?”

“Excuse me?” You didn't know if he was mocking you.

Kishibe grimaced. “You complained about conversation, I’m making conversation." He rested his hands on the table and elaborated. "What’s your cruel joke? Life’s full of them, and you, to me, embody a senseless life that bores.” He then shrugs. “That’s just my opinion of you, though.”

This was a game of insulting one another. 

Despite this— “I’ll bite," you spoke. —You pressed start.

In the freezing bar current, your statement remained static. “To me, you embody a man who’s never found his purpose in life. Whether that was a person or thing, you haven’t found either that was willing to stay. Who knows why? Possibly…the reason you can’t be happy, and keep joy, is because of yourself. That is quite cruel and hilarious.”

As if on cue, the bartender returned to the man's table quietly. Neither of you two looked up at him as he placed your glasses in front of you, eyes rather on each other sharply, instead. 

“Enjoy. Happy birthday, miss," the bartender remarked. 

Instead of leaving immediately after setting the liquor down, he puts something else in front of you in addition to your drink, forcing you to remove your view from the devil hunter. 

A cupcake was placed next to your iced whiskey. The cake was a bit squished and despite the multicolored icing not being perfectly arranged, you didn't mind; each sprinkle sparkled in your eyes.

While you were staring at the cupcake, time passed as if you were submerged in water, and before you knew it, the bartender had left before you could even thank him. Though you doubt your pride would ever let ya.

Kishibe hisses after harshly ingesting the alcohol, you couldn't stop the drawing of your stare at the lining of his throat or the scar near his lips. “Don’t go on boring me, chump," he said. "You’re good company. So enjoy yourself.”

The introduction of Kishibe was both the beginning of your training as a devil hunter and the start of your the new world you stepped into. The fact that you knew he was going to become a bastard in your life, as well as him knowing that, however, did not stop you both from being drawn to one another’s presence.

Kishibe’s insight was so wrong, yet so right at the same time. That birthday was like the sky that day: a twilight. A twinge of both the best and worst day of your life.

The sky had a horrendous stench.

Sitting on the corner, away from your parents' home, you reflected on the recent fight that had shattered your relationship. It had been a few weeks since you had embarked on your new career as a devil hunter, and you hadn't yet found the courage to tell your parents about this drastic change in your life, knowing how it would affect them to be reminded of the Gun Devil, even if it was indirect. The argument had been intense, filled with harsh words and painful accusations that cut deep.

In the heat of the moment, the truth about your newfound profession slipped from your lips, a revelation that only served to further escalate the conflict. Their disbelief and scorn were palpable, and their words dripped with disappointment and anger. They couldn't understand why you would choose such a dangerous path, one that seemed to defy all reason and safety. Your mother took it the worst, as you expected.

“We let you go off into the world and this is what you do?! A devil hunter? Are you insane?!”

As the argument escalated, you felt a growing sense of frustration and isolation. The weight of their disapproval pressed down on you, making it difficult to breathe. In the back of you head, you could hear the voices of your siblings, once so close and supportive, now so far and gone.

You attempted to calm her down, but that just fed the fire.

“No! Do not tell me to calm down when you’re acting yet again insane! I can only handle so much from you! Do you understand how hard it is, as a mother, to watch their daughter ruin their life over and over again.”

And you could only take so much berating from her.

“Whatever, mom. Go ahead and bitch and complain all you want. Act like the fucking poor old mother you are. A forever victim!”

As always, your father attempted to stop these arguments, but also ended up doing the opposite. “Don’t speak to your mother that way!” he lectured.

Your teeth grind against the other. “How about she stops speaking to me that way! Then perhaps I’ll stop. Since whenever I accept the yelling you stay silent and NEVER defend me. But oh no, as soon as I say something I’m the one who’s being disrespectful. I’m tired of this twisting and turning bullshit in this house!”

You had turned your anger to your father. “You’re the one who TOLD me to find a job, and that is what I did!”

He furrowed his brows. “We didn’t tell you to be a devil hunter! Of all things, _____!” he shouted.

Your mother sobbed into her fist, bringing the attention to her sunken form. “A-After…after everything we went through. You do this. Why? Just to spite us?”

Her tears bring you no pity, just frustration. “Am I even a part of that “we?” Am I?”

The words exchanged during the fight cut deep, leaving scars that seemed impossible to heal. It was then that you realized that you needed to distance yourself from the toxicity of the situation. Seeking solace and guidance, you remembered Kishibe, the only contact you had in your phone in this isolating world.

With trembling hands, you dialed the number he had given you after your first encounter. The phone rang, each tone echoing in your ears like a countdown to a new beginning.

Kishibe's voice, filled with a mix of confusion and tiredness, came thought your phones speakers. “Hello? _____?”

Your lack of of a swift response caused him put two and two together. “Tell me your location. I’ll get you pick up.”

You ended up mustering up the corner you were on, and he immediately arranged for a taxi to pick you up, whisking you away from the chaos of your parents.

As the taxi arrived, you could feel the tension in your muscles begin to ease. Kishibe greeted you with a nod. You then drove away from the familiar streets, venturing into the unknown. The world outside your parents' home suddenly seemed vast and full of possibilities.

Kishibe took you to an old bar, a place where fellow devil hunters gathered to frequently from the appearance of the people in it. It was a refuge for those who had made the same choice you had, who had dared to confront the darkness lurking in the shadows. Kishibe sat you down and you spoke your story with the influence of alcohol.

“Life changed for everyone after the Gun Devil’s attack, including my families. I wasn’t always an only child. I had an older brother and baby sister,” you put out. “I was really the middle child back then. But my parents never gave me any less attention than any of my other siblings. Until they died. They were never the same after that.”

You stared into your glass. “With their deaths, I truly became the middle child. Hell, more like the neglected child,” you concluded.

Kishibe nodded, cup in hand. “You sure have baggage.”

You leaned into your palm. “Mhm.”

The night was long and comforting with Kishibe’s company. It was what you needed. A distraction.

As the night grew late and your conversation deepened, Kishibe kindly offered to walk you to a nearby motel instead of returning you to your parents' house. It was a gesture of friendship and concern. You both then ambled along the dimly lit streets, the silence occasionally punctuated by the sounds of your footsteps. The cool night breeze whispered through the trees, bringing a sense of calm to your weary minds. The glow of streetlights cast a soft illumination on the path, creating a tranquil atmosphere as you both delved into more personal topics.

During the walk, Kishibe gave you his two cents. “Loving someone is bothersome. Especially family of all things. They don’t have to be a part of your life, you know? It's a misconception to believe just ‘cause they’re family you’re required to love them. That you need them. You don’t need them if all they do is piss you off and show no purpose. Why put in the effort for someone you can’t even stand?”

You sighed. “Honestly cooking though, at this point imagining a relationship with my parents is beyond useless. Just…I waited this long to move out because…I wanted to fix things first. But relationships are bothersome and they drive me insane.”

He nodded, taking out a cigarette. “They are,” he replied.

You point at the stick. “You got one to spare?”

Kishibe shrugged as he passed you the cigarette. “Your first?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I smoked a bit in high school,” you admitted as he lit it from your grip.

He chuckled. “It’s apparent.”

You shifted your eyes. “Ha. Ha. Ha,” you laugh sarcastically before taking a long swig of the nicotine.

Once Kishibe and you arrived at the motel, the flickering neon sign greeted you with a faded glow. The motel itself appeared weathered and worn, its exterior clad in peeling paint and patches of cracked concrete. The flickering fluorescent lights along the walkway cast long, eerie shadows on the ground, adding to the sense of mystery that enveloped the place.

You frowned. “This is the place?”

Kishibe blew out smoke. “Yeah, shaggy establishment, I know. Good for now though.” He guided you to the door of a room on the ground floor. “I’ll help ya with apartment searching tomorrow after your training,” he said.

You leaned against the door, removing the cigarette from your lips. You couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude towards Kishibe. His kindness and generosity in offering to accompany you to the motel and just hanging out with you this late and sudden had caught you by surprise. It was a side of him you had never seen before, and it touched you deeply.

You turned to Kishibe with a sincere expression on your face. “Kishibe. Thank, for all of this. I didn’t have anyone else to call and your insight and kindness…I appreciate.”

He burns out his own cigarette.

“Yeah, well, you can call me for these things.”

You smile up at him, sensually.

“And what about other things?”

“Depends what those other things are.”

You move closer, before then kissing him while reaching up on your tiptoes, enjoying the sensation of his stubble pressing against your face. He does not pull away.

After a moment, you move away, hands still on his shoulders. “These things continues inside,” you alluded.

Abruptly, he grabs your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes on his as he uttered, “I’ll oblige.”

Then the night was forgotten.

An eerie hum permeated the air as you ventured further along the ghost town beside Kishibe, sending shivers down your spine. The source of the humming remained elusive, echoing through the stillness of the surrounding landscape. The sky above was a haunting sight, its once vibrant blue hue muted and dulled the further you two walked. Thick layers of clouds blanketed the heavens, their sinister presence casting a veil of mystery and forebode ahead.

It had been about a few weeks since that night, and in that time your relationship has transcended to an intimate manner almost. Nothing official. Never was anything official with Kishibe, but rather, comforting. And he just so happened to be around when you needed somebody, and you didn't have anybody but him right now anyhow after abandoning your parents in your old civilian life that was one bad memory away.

While searching the abandoned area, with the bleak and dull sky serving as a backdrop to your conversation, Kishibe went and chose for this moment to reveal something important.

“_____. You’re at a point where, in my professional opinion—“

You interrupt him instantly. “—a lot of things about us are not professional.”

He cleared his throat, disregarding your comment. “Despite that, in my professional opinion, I believe you’re ready for a contract. With a devil,” he stated.

This made you loss for words. “Oh.”

You knew the end of your training as a devil hunter was nearing, but with his confirmation, you felt a sense of disbelief and nostalgia as you reflect on all your time spent with Kishibe. Your shared experiences and the knowledge he has imparted to you and how he has shaped your understanding of the Devil hunting world left you wistful with the memories.

Kishibe pocketed his hands. “It’s a big decision. You have to be certain in these contracts as these are devils who want nothing more than to eat you alive,” he advised.

“Who are you contracted with?” you ask out of curiosity.

Kishibe pauses, his gaze penetrating yours. “That’s irrelevant.”

“How? Maybe I’ll contract with that devil,” you suggested.

He changes the topic of discussion. “There is one devil that I’ve heard around. They have great strength and contracts give great power.”

You asked him who the devil was.

“The mermaid devil.” The devil who embodies the fear of mermaids. “They apparently only do contracts with women and their contracts are intimate, to put it simply. I’ve heard stories of it removing women's breasts in multiple contracts, hell, in some cases, they’re clitoris.”

Kishibe scratches the tip of his nose. “‘Tis a twisted devil. A devil with a particular taste and type that influences its willingness to do contracts. I’m letting you know this so you don’t walk in blind, okay? What do you say, so I can set this up for you?”

His words resonated deeply within you, and you nod solemnly, understanding the weight of his words to you.

“Right. I think… I’ll go for it.”

"I'll set it all up then. For tomorrow probably."

You still had this, not fear, but intimidation of devils, that strung from fear. But devil’s devour that fear and are born from it, you remember. You shake your head and leave the conversation to die there as you silently continue patrolling alongside Kishibe, cherishing the remaining moments together and mentally preparing yourself for the challenges ahead.

With the evening sky painted hues of orange and pink, Kishibe and you arrived at the door of your new apartment that he recently helped you move into. The air carried a gentle breeze, setting a serene atmosphere around the area. You both had just finished our patrol and despite the fading light, there was an unspoken reluctance from you to part ways.

You held your keys. “Thanks. For the walk I guess.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth where he bore his scar as you always did after he walked you home. Upon pulling away, you found Kishibe staring down at you, examining.

He narrowed his eyes. “Spit. What is it?” He could feel your apprehensiveness about him leaving.

You cradled his face.

“Tomorrow. Will you come with me tomorrow?”

The realization that you were about to encounter the mermaid devil, a mythical and dangerous being, was impossible to ignore. Despite your best efforts to maintain composure, worry seeped into your thoughts, and you were unable to hide the anxiety that was racing through you.

Kishibe shoves you up against the door, suddenly taking your breath and anxieties away.

“Kay. Want me to stay the night?” 

You cling to him by grabbing his shoulders.

“Please, Kishibe.” And with that plead, he obliged.

Anticipation and impatience started to build up within you as you waited for Kishibe. He had spent the night at your apartment, however, he was gone with only a note as his trace the next morning. The note contained the location where the Mermaid Devil resided. At first, you didn’t let Kishibe’s sudden exit nerve you and made your way to the location. You didn’t want to worry about it. However, as time ticked away slowly, and as the minutes reacted like wet paint, your anger with the man grew. This meeting with the Mermaid Devil was too important to be delayed any further.

You stared at the note Kishibe scribbled before crushing it into your palm. “The audacity of men.”

Realizing that you couldn't wait indefinitely, you made the difficult decision to proceed alone. Despite your frustration with Kishibe's absence, you knew you had to confront the devil and face whatever challenges awaited you regardless.

Despite feeling frightened, you summoned your courage and stepped into the formidable building, alone and with your will only. Once inside, you identified yourself and your purpose for being there, and without hesitation, two gentlemen in suits guided you towards a hall. The hall had no doors, it only contained a solitary elevator at the end of it. That elevator, you three entered.

The sensation of descending into the unknown depths of Hell filled you with a mix of apprehension and determination. The walls of the elevator seemed to close in on you, amplifying the sense of isolation and impending doom. The absence of any numbers on the buttons only added to the surreal and ominous nature of this journey. Yet, you focused on maintaining your courage, reminding yourself of the purpose that brought you here.

You had to confront this Devil and face whatever challenges lay ahead with its power, even if it meant venturing into the darkest recesses imaginable. The thought of Kishibe's absence still frustrated you, but you couldn't let that deter you from your path. You could hear your mothers screaming, your father's protest, and could visualize your siblings' last moments before the end. You’ve come too far.

As the elevator continued its descent, you steeled my nerves and mentally prepared yourself for what awaited you. You knew I had to be prepared for the unimaginable and confront my deepest fears head-on. This was not a logical situation, and you couldn't rely on rationality alone.

‘These are devils who want nothing more than to eat you alive.’

The silence within the elevator was deafening, broken only by the low hum of its descent. The air grew colder, and a sense of foreboding hung in the atmosphere.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the elevator came to a halt. The doors opened, revealing a dimly lit corridor that stretched out into the distance. There was no sunlight, there was no blue sky, only shadows. The two men in suits gestured for you to proceed, and with a gulp, you stepped out through the gates of Hell.

The corridor seemed to stretch on indefinitely, shrouded in darkness and uncertainty. Each step took echoed ominously, reverberating through the space. The only light came from flickering fluorescent bulbs overhead, casting red, eerie shadows that danced along the doors.

With every step, your courage deepened. You reminded yourself that you possessed the strength and resilience to face this darkness. You couldn't let fear paralyze you. The devils feed on that fear of yours.

After centuries of wandering, you found yourself standing before a door adorned with intricate code screens and sturdy manual locks. The men you escorted you both went to do their jobs. One meticulously inputted a sequence of numbers into the code screens while the other deftly manipulated a set of keys to unlock the physical locks. As the final lock was disengaged, it clattered to the ground, resonating with finality, while the once-dead screens burst to life, radiating a vibrant shade of green. The door, as if anticipating its cue, swung open with remarkable swiftness.

A sense of trepidation coursed through you as one of the men extended his hand into the shadowed void beyond, urging you to enter. With a nervous gulp, you complied, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing upon you. As you stepped forward, the door silently closed behind me, sealing your fate within the enigmatic confines of the chamber.

As you ventured deeper into the cave, the air grew heavier, and a chilling sensation ran down your spine. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the darkness, creating an eerie ambiance. As you cautiously moved forward, the dim light from your torch illuminated the rocky walls, revealing intricate patterns and strange symbols etched into the stone. The further you explored, the more you became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It felt as though the very fabric of reality was warping, distorting your senses. The cave seemed to twist and turn in impossible ways, leading you deeper into its mysterious depths. It was as if you were underwater.

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the cavern, low and sinister. "So, you've come seeking an audience with me," it hissed, seemingly emanating from all directions at once.

You caught your breath as you turned on the balls of your feet, only to find a tall figure behind you.

The Mermaid Devil stood with an imposing presence, its tall and lanky figure capturing your attention first. Its disturbingly skinny body revealed the outlines of its bones, and Its skin appeared wrinkled and slouchy, lacking color and vitality. Then its long, greasy-looking hair resembled strands of sea grass, cascading down its back was simply putrid. The creature's face remained concealed beneath a veil of its hair, acting like a mask, and only its large, beady, black eyes were visible, peering out from the tangled strands. Those eyes, devoid of any warmth or humanity, held your fear in a grip as they stared at you in wonder and amazement.

Your voice shook as you processed its appearance. “I…heard ya like women.”

It eerily smiles at that. “I…have a preference~” it sang. It squinted its eyes at you. “And you, by far, are the most beautiful women I have laid eyes on. You don’t understand how excited I am seeing you.”

The eerie smile that spread across the mermaid devil's face sent shivers down your spine. Its melodic voice carried a hint of seduction as it spoke, weaving a sinister charm into its words. The creature's squinted eyes locked onto you, intensifying its gaze. "I... have a preference~" it sang, its voice dripping with an unsettling mixture of desire and menace. "And you, by far, are the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes on. You don't understand how excited I am seeing you."

The compliment, though seemingly flattering, felt hollow and disconcerting, coming from such a mysterious and otherworldly being. Its words carried an undercurrent of danger, leaving you with an uneasy sense of being both desired and threatened at the same time. The mermaid devil's intentions remained unclear, but its presence alone spoke of potential darkness lurking beneath its alluring facade.

Your first thought would be to say thank you, yet, you remained silent.

As the mermaid devil continued its unsettling praise, remarking on your ideal femininity and how well you took care of yourself despite being a devil hunter, you couldn't help but feel a mix of discomfort and curiosity.

“I’ve contracted with some women I’ve had to lower my standards for, you know?”

However, you weren't easily swayed by its flattery and decided to confront the rumors you had heard about it. You weren’t here for chatter. "I heard your contracts are extreme," you stated firmly, maintaining your composure. "That you removed one woman's breast who contracted with you."

The mermaid devil quirked its head, seemingly amused by your knowledge. "Ah, you did your research, I see?" it responded. "And what else did I take? I know you know! Come on now, don't be shy~"

Your voice remained steady as you replied, undeterred. "And her clitoris."

The cave echoed with the mermaid devil's laughter, a chilling sound that reverberated through the darkness.

As the mermaid devil's laughter filled the cave, a rush of conflicting emotions surged within you. At that moment, you couldn't help but think of Kishibe, your trainer and, in some complicated way, your lover. Memories of your time together intertwined with a sense of abandonment, as he left you to face this perverse creature alone.

A pang of longing and frustration gripped your heart as you yearned for Kishibe's presence. You wished he were by your side, providing guidance and support in this unsettling encounter. The weight of the situation felt heavier without his reassuring presence, and you couldn't help but question the choices and circumstances that led you to this moment.

"A proud woman you are!" it exclaimed, finding amusement in your lack of hesitation. "No shame in your voice. None at all! I love it!”

The exchange unveiled a disturbing aspect of the mermaid devil's contracts, suggesting a grotesque and invasive nature. Its laughter, filled with a mix of pleasure and malevolence, hinted at a deeper darkness lurking within its realm. While you longed for Kishibe's companionship, you also grappled with a desire to escape the clutches of the mermaid devil, who continued to exude a menacing charm. The feeling of vulnerability intensified, and a deep-seated fear stirred within you.

“So you think you’re up to it, mortal?” it challenged.

“Get on with it. What’s our contract?”

The weight of the situation and the unsettling encounter with the mermaid devil consumed you, a profound realization struck: your life had taken a turn for the worst. The absence of Kishibe, both as your trainer and potential lover, left a void that seemed insurmountable.

Deep down, you knew that to find solace in life and perhaps mend the relationship, you needed to have a heartfelt conversation with Kishibe. Understanding why he left you in such a vulnerable position would be crucial for your healing and for any hope of rebuilding a healthy connection. You recognized that he must have had his reasons, and unraveling those reasons required open and honest communication.

However, a sense of doubt and resignation crept in. Why bother? Was it worth the effort and emotional investment to seek reconciliation? The pain and confusion caused by Kishibe's actions made it tempting to give up, to wallow in the bitterness and despair that surrounded you.

The flickering flame of the candle Kishibe once ignited had gradually diminished, casting a fading glow in the past. However, later in your life, that very same candle would find itself reignited, filling the surroundings with a radiant beam of light once more.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

you would like to believe that, but rayne makes that extremely difficult to believe when he looks like he wants to kill every person who so happens to exist in his direction.

so naturally, seeing him so angered after finding out that you've been stood up is surprising. it's an even bigger shock when he offers to take you out on a date instead.

you don't know what compels you to agree. even if you hadn't accepted his offer, something tells you that rayne would've found a way to get you to leave with him so there's no use in trying to deny him in this matter.

that's why you allow him to drive all the way to marchétte street, where a night market is being held in full swing. the road has all sorts of stalls lined up one after the other, ranging from foods to clothes. but because the marchétte night market is ridiculously popular, the place is packed to the brim with people.

rayne offers his hand once he notices that you're daunted by the crowds. you stare at him with surprise. when you don't make a move to accept this action, rayne huffs before grabbing your hand. he interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you into marchétte street's traffic.

the first thing you note is that rayne's hands are surprisingly warm and soft. for someone so incapable of talking, his touch is strangely reassuring.

he drags you to a vendor selling takoyaki. and even as he orders, rayne doesn’t let go of your hand.

“what do you want?” he says into your ear so that he doesn’t have to yell over all the noise. the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin sends shivers down your spin. it's maddening.

“oh. uh-” your eyes quickly scan over the menu, and you blurt out the first item that you read. out of habit you reach for your wallet, but rayne is quick to shut you down.

“absolutely not.” he grumbles, letting your hand drop to your side so he can pull out his cash. rayne hands the amount to the girl at the register, and she hands back his change that he drops into the tip jar.

“thanks.” you say quietly, still so flustered about the entire situation.

rayne only studies you before humming in acknowledgement. “come on.” he guides his hand to your upper back, moving you out the way so you can wait on the side for your orders.

it’s during this time you really look at rayne as if that would provide you with the answers you need to understand him. you try to wrap your head around it. you draft up every possible explanation, but none of them seem to make sense.

unless… it couldn’t be… does rayne like you? you shake your head, dismissing the thought as soon as it crosses your mind. no, that’s absurd, the furthest thing from logical. this is rayne ames we’re talking about. in the five months that you’ve been living together, you two have never had a solid conversation. how could he ever like someone he’s barely talked to?

you're about to confront rayne about his intentions until your number order is called, and all the courage you built up crumbles away as rayne leaves you to go pick up your takoyaki.

still, whatever his reasons for doing this may be, this is a rare opportunity to come by, and that means that maybe rayne doesn't have to continue being a stranger. maybe you can get under those layers and find that good guy finn said was there.

"i never knew marchétte had a night market." you say, breaking the silence as the two of you walk side by side through the market.

"i didn't either." rayne admits, poking his fork into one of the octopus balls, and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

"what?" your face scrunches in disbelief. "then how'd you find out?"

"i asked finn as we were going down to the garage." your date shares nonchalantly.

you turn to look at rayne with the intent of questioning him further, but the sight of his cheeks bulging with food makes you burst out in a fit of giggles.

"what?" rayne asks, narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip to contain your laughter. your gaze falls on a mixture of crumbs and sauce that sits on the corner of his mouth, only causing you to smile wider.

"you got a little something there." you gesture at his lips. rayne fumbles for a moment, swiping his fingers around various sections of his mouth, somehow only cleaning half of the mess up.

you shake your head, still grinning up at him. he tenses when your thumb grazes the edges of his lips. you can feel his eyes staring deep into you, and you have to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

"all done." you whisper, wiping the remainders on the napkin in your hand.

rayne doesn't say anything regarding what occurred, only urging you to follow him further down marchétte street.

you swear that you see the tips of his ears go red, and something about that makes you all fuzzy inside.

as the night progresses, you and rayne abide your time by visiting stalls. well, it's more like you choose which ones interest you the most, and rayne follows behind. you comment on certain items that look nice; sometimes, you ask for your roommate's opinions to decide on whether something will be worth your money or not. to your surprise, rayne's advice is solid, and you end up listening to him.

at some point, you convinced him to buy a pair of absurdly looking mugs for the apartment. he fought you hard on it, saying that a mug shaped like a fish is extremely inconvenient, but in the end, you won with insistent begging.

when the two of you both got bored of the market, you decide to take rayne to one of your favorite spots in the city.

"the park? really?" rayne gives you a dead stare.

"hey, don't judge." you pout. "i love this place."

"why? no offense, but i don't think parks are all that special."

"i feel like i can take a step back here and just a catch a break from everything," you answer honestly. "sometimes, i sit down and watch people as they live their lives, and something about that is strangely comforting. it makes me want to keep going."

rayne doesn't follow up on your words, but you can tell that he's really considering them, and that brings a smile onto your face.

"plus, i feel like it's a good place for when you want to talk to someone." you grab onto your roommate's wrist. "come on let's go to the swings."

you practically drag rayne to the playground, which is completely deserted, but that's to be expected when it's already 10p.m. no parent would be dumb enough to bring their kid out this late.

you force rayne onto the the swing next to you, and all he does is sit there, unwilling to indulge himself in such a simple joy. annoyed with him, you hop off your own set, coming behind him.

"what are you doing?" rayne whips his head around as your hands plant themselves firmly on his back.

"oh live a little." you huff, mustering up enough strength to push him. the swing rocks forwards and comes back. even as rayne complains and threatens you, you continue to push him, watching as he goes higher and higher. he may be masking it, but you can tell that he's enjoying it.

you finally give up when your arms grow sore and a layer of sweat coats your face. slumping back into the swing beside rayne, you breathe heavily. "man, that was a workout."

"i told you to stop." your date reminds you, shooting you a look.

"you can be honest, rayne. i know you liked it."

"i did not."

"yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." you wave him off, laughing.

for a minute, neither of you say anything. you're the one who said that the park is a place where you can talk openly with someone, yet there's not a single topic that you can think to bring up.

luckily, rayne swoops in to save it. "can i ask you something?" your half-blonde roommate asks, something more serious laced in his voice. it makes you swallow a lump in your throat. an anxious feeling creeps into your body.

"of course you can."

"why did you bother giving that guy a chance?"

it's easy to know exactly who he's referring to. you shrug. "he's nice and has good energy."

"but he had stood you up two times in the past though. clearly he isn't as nice as you make him out to be. you seriously can't be that dumb to have fallen for it three times."

that statement in itself should get you mad (even though he would be right), but there's something peculiar in what he said that had you ignoring the jab altogether. "how'd you know he stood me up twice before? i never told you that."

at that, rayne freezes, eyes blowing wide open. it's so obvious that he's trying to find an excuse right now, but you push further.

"who told you that, rayne?" you lean closer, watching as his ears turn beet red. you're not even angry with him. it's mostly curiosity making you push him. not to mention that seeing him in a flustered state is entertaining and quite cute.

"max did." your roommate finally admits albeit quietly.

you pull your head back. "max? as in max land? how the hell does he know?"

"your dates happened to be at the restaurant he works at."

"why would he bother telling you that though?" you wonder. "up until tonight, i don't think it concerned you."

"it did though." the half-blonde mumbles, thinking you wouldn't hear, but you do anyway.

"what?" you press.

"forget it." rayne shakes his head, growing irritated.

"no. fuck that.." you seethe, annoyed at his unwillingness to be honest with you. rayne bites his tongue to hold back. you see it. "don't act like this. just tell me, or i swear to god i'll text max right now-"

"it's because i knew that i could treat you better." the words rush out of rayne's mouth as he snaps his head toward you. the fire in his eyes die as he locks his gaze onto you. the harsh emotion written across his features softens. you can feel your own exasperation slipping away like that of a retreating ocean tide. he grimaces in regret, knowing that he didn't mean to let that slip out, but he did anyway. it's out in the open, and now you knew.

surely, you're hearing things wrong. perhaps you're misunderstanding what he just said. how could that be misinterpreted though? it's such a painfully straightforward statement, yet it still doesn't make any sense.

rayne sighs. it's like he can already hear your thoughts and your confusion. the least he can do is clear the air and dump everything onto you while he can. "i didn't expect to feel like this," he begins to explain. "when i moved in, i just assumed you'd be another person i wouldn't pay attention to. i'm sure you know how i am. i don't bother getting to know people, but a lot of people feel the need to force themselves into my life, and shit like that pisses me off. but you didn't do that. you introduced yourself, explained the ground rules of the apartment, and then left me alone."

"so... you like the fact that i leave you alone?" you tilt your head.

"shut up. let me finish."

"okay."

"but yeah, that's part of it. you keep your distance, but you still try to show that you care. you don't do anything groundbreaking. it's just that the small things you do for me got to me. it may sound dumb to you, but it meant a lot to me."

suddenly, you're hit like a train because you know exactly what rayne means. you recall all the times you ensured that there was dinner for him, the times you moved his laundry into the dryer when he forgot to do it himself, and the times you restocked his favorite snacks when they ran out. you hadn't realized that you did any of that. it just came naturally, no hidden meaning behind it.

"oh." you breathe out, blinking.

rayne nods, continuing. you're honestly floored over the fact that he still has more to say. "you don't notice it. at least, i don't think you do, but at some point, i tried doing the same for you. i started paying more attention to you and what you liked and how you liked things done. i did it mostly to pay back your kindness, but over time i continued just 'cause i liked seeing your smile."

you have to process that for a minute, piecing together how certain events lined up until it finally clicks into place. "s-so the island vase-"

"i replace the flowers because you like them fresh."

"the key holder?"

"you always forgot to bring your keys until i installed it."

"when you put on movies-"

"i check your letterboxd and hope that you'll sit and watch them with me."

"when i put on movies-"

"i sit with you because i want to be near you."

your jaw falls open. never in a million years could you have expected this. you thought that rayne could care less about your existence, but the reality was that that was far from the truth. cold, aloof rayne was always doing things for you. all this time, you've been so oblivious.

still, there's more to the story so you stay quiet, letting him get his feelings off of his chest. "to be honest, i was never going to say anything. max tried convincing me to convince on multiple occasions, but i was dead set on letting it pass. i didn't think you liked me in the same way anyway.

"but then you came home today and you told me about your date and i just got so... angry," rayne clenches his fist around the chains of the swing. the whole situation infuriates him every time he thinks about it. "it just wasn't fair. you spent so much time into looking your best just for that asshole to go and waste your effort. you're so beautiful, so kind and understanding, and i fucking hate the fact that he's been taking advantage of that.

"i really wasn't thinking clear when i proposed this date to you, but god after tonight, i'd do it all over again. i wanted you to know what it's like to be with someone who does care about you. i wanted to see you smile. i wanted to hear stories. i want you so badly it's all i can think about sometimes.

"i know this is a lot, and i'm freaking you out right now. i'm sorry but you-"

"rayne." you interrupt with a big smile on your face. he was unaware to the fact that you had got up.

"for fucks sake, can you let me finish? this is already weird enough for me to talk about as is." he rolls his eyes, narrowing his gaze at you, blush splashed across his cheeks. still, without any resistance, you pull him up from his swing by his wrists.

"then don't." you whisper as you pull him in.

and the moment you crash your lips onto rayne's, the world stops. he instantly melts into you, the palms of his hands finding the soft skin on your cheeks. your hands tangle themselves into his hair. his lips are incredibly soft. a faint taste of matcha and sugar syrup dances on his tongue from the boba he drank earlier. a noise of approval vibrates down his throat, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

rayne wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. you get what he was talking about earlier. this kiss is all it takes to prove it to you. you feel his affection and desire all at once. every single bone in your body is so aware of how much rayne ames cares about you.

when you finally pull away for air, it's like a smile is permanently tugged onto your lips. rayne trains his eyes onto you, engraining every detail of this moment into his head.

a comfortable silence falls as each of you take your time to catch your breaths. your stare finds its way up, admiring the night sky. there are barely any stars out tonight. no, that part isn't remotely true, not fully anyway, because light pollution drowns out stars and their lights. the reality is that there are billions of stars hanging high out of reach; they just go unseen.

rayne is kinda like that you realize. finn was right. his brother is a good guy. there's a hidden light within him behind all those aloof layers of his. you just have to squint and maybe put on some prescription glasses is order to see it. it's a shame it took you five months to to really acknowledge it. but now that you've finally found a glimpse of it, you'll continue to clear past the fog. you want to know every part of rayne and see his light just as he did with you. you want him to be able to shine at his full brightness with no fear. you'll take rayne ames for all that he is.

"come on," you coo, a lovestruck look in your eyes as you slip your hand into rayne's. "let's go home."

bonus:

rayne: finn, give me a date spot quick finn: are you actually going on a date? rayne: stop asking questions finn: there's a night market on marchétte street. finn: are you seriously going on a date though? finn: hello? finn: rayne. finn: stop leaving me on read. finn: is it (y/n)? finn: it is her, huh? finn: asshole.

delisaster: hey sorry delisaster: can we reschedule for next saturday? y/n: kys y/n: lol sorry that was my bf delisaster: bruh what? delisaster: did you have a bf this whole time? *this message could not be sent* delisaster: did you fucking block me? *this message could not be sent*

✆ chapter 1: Extra Credit

✆ chapter 2: Flirting Business Tactic

✆ chapter 3: Fashion Walk

✆ chapter 4: Leaf

✆ chapter 5: Model Castings

✆ chapter 6: Can’t wait to see u

✆ chapter 7: Snacks

✆ chapter 8: Movies

✆ chapter 9: Asleep

✆ chapter 10: Late

✆ chapter 11: Third Wheel

✆ chapter 12: Reminded me of you

✆ chapter 13: Iron

✆ chapter 14:

✆ chapter 15:

…